


Look at the Stars

by happytheengineer



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:10:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7742836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happytheengineer/pseuds/happytheengineer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This description really sucks, but please give this a chance! A modern time AU about the Scorpion characters when they were younger. Through the sickness and triumph, they become a family and create special relationships that  are everlasting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Need Help

~Happy's POV~ 

 

My large oxygen tank bounces behind me as I stumble across the parking lot leading to an abandoned museum, which is now a retarded Cancer Support Group. My crazy foster parents force me to go every Wednesday and Saturday for the same old stuff: talking about sickness; talking about hospitals; talking of remission; talking about being terminal; imagining death. I really can't see how this is a "Support" Group, it's a group of sick, depressed, and dying kids and teens that explain their life situations and treatments with happy-go-lucky high school students. There's a total of twelve sick people, five high school students, one adult over 21, and sixteen lives lost from cancer.

I go up a few flights of stairs to the meeting area. Everyone else is already talking and socializing. As always, I sit in the circle of tiny plastic chairs, waiting for this to start so it can end. Slowly, everybody sits down. We go around the circle and announce our names and our types of sicknesses.

"Happy Quinn, anaplastic thyroid cancer," I always say.

From the corner of my eye, I notice someone I've never seen before. He has green eyes, a stubby chin, and is wearing a black fedora on his head. He's not sick, from what I can tell, but he's not one of the high schoolers. He seems more sophisticated. His eyes meet mine and he stares. I scowl at him, which makes him smile. I look away and listen to my only friend announce himself. 

"Um, hi. My name is Sylvester Dodd and I'm leukemic." He sits down and cleans his hands with anti-bacterial wipes. When I first met him, he told me he became very precautionary after he was diagnosed with leukemia. 

Paige, one of the high schoolers, stands up. "Everybody, I'd like you to meet Toby. He's running a study on the different behaviors of kids and teens with ranging types of cancers." She points to the person wearing the fedora. She then dismisses us to do what we want, so I go over to Sylvester.

"Sly," I say. I came up with that nickname the day we became friends. Even though he's younger than me (he's 14, I'm 16), he is way taller than me. And no, my shortness is not caused by cancer.

"Hi, Happy. How have you been doing with everything?" He's not asking about my cancer, but my life overall with foster parents, moving around, school. 

"Just the norm," I reply. "How about yourself?" We mostly have to catch up on each other's lives at Support Group because we never have the time to call on the phone between school, treatment, and personal issues. 

"I've been doing pretty well. Megan told me Walter is Paige's boyfriend, but he won't admit it." Megan is a volunteer at the hospital Sly goes to. She is very special to him, vice versa. Walter is her brother and a friend of ours. He isn't sick. We met him when we went to the local science museum. Right now, he's in Ireland, visiting his parents because Megan forced him to. 

"That's great. Do you think you'll be able to meet me at Kovelsky's tomorrow?" I ask

Sylvester nods. "I won't miss it. Remember to bring your math homework, too." Sly really likes math. I can do it, but he doesn't really have access to it because his parents took him out of school when he was diagnosed. I bid goodbye to my friend and leave. Just before I step off the curb outside, I feel a hand touch my shoulder. I turn around to face Toby.

"Can I help you?" I ask him.

He grins. "No, but may I help you?"

"No. I don't need help from anyone." I shrug his hand off me and start walking.

"See you Wednesday!" Toby yells.

I open the car door and pull up my tank and close the door. I fasten my seat belt. 

"How was it?" My foster mom, Moriah, asks.

"Fine."

"Make any new friends?"

I stay silent and look out the window. When we get "home", I exit the car before it even stops, and head inside. I pull my oxygen tank up the stairs and into my room. My room is pretty big, but there's nothing in it besides my clothes, toiletries, a few personal items, and cancer related stuff: more oxygen tanks, pills, liquid medicine, spare cannulas, etc. I kick off my boots and lay on my bed. I pick up my phone and read articles from Popular Mechanics until someone knocks on the door.

"Happy," Steven, my foster father, says, "dinner is ready." I follow him downstairs as fast as I can. He slows down and picks up the cart my tank is on.

"You don't need to do that, I can do it," I tell him.

"You're right, I don't need to do it, but I want to."

It feels great to use stairs normally for the first time in three years. I sit down at the kitchen table. We eat and Moriah and Steven talk about work and their family.

"Tomorrow, Happy, we'd like you to meet some friends of the family." Steven says.

"I can't. I'm meeting Sylvester at Kovelsky's," I explain. 

Moriah smiles, "Sweetheart, it's great that you're making friends, but you need to meet the family at some point."

"What do you mean by 'family'? I don't have one!" I snap. I quickly stand up and start to walk away. But someone pulls the cannula from my nose. I can't breathe. 

I gasp for air, "My...cannula..."

Steven immediately puts the nubbins up my nostrils and the tubing around my ears. But before that, he took the cannula from his wife. I "run" up the stairs and slam my door shut. I collapse on my bed. My head is pounding, heart racing, lungs stinging from only a few seconds without the cannula. I pick up my phone and speed dial Sly's number. 

"Hey, Sly," I say when he picks up.

"What happened?! Why does your voice sound so raspy?!" 

"Moriah pulled out my cannula. My body is aching everywhere. I'm fine, though."

"You really need to get out of there, Happy. If Moriah had it any longer, you could've died." 

"I'm going to die anyway, Sly. I know you know there's a five year survival rate, I've already been like this for three. You need to remember that." 

There was a long pause on the other end. "I don't want you to go. You are the only real friend I have, because my Super Fun Guy collection doesn't count." I hear him sniffle.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. See you tomorrow at Kovelsky's."

I hang up and go to sleep.


	2. Give Up

~Happy’s POV~   
I wake up in the same position from yesterday. I look at my watch and my eyes widen at the time, I have to be at Kovelsky’s in 10 minutes. I have no idea how I’m going to get there, Moriah won’t drive me, so I need to get there myself. Quickly, I change into some clean clothes and brush my hair back into a ponytail. Gripping onto the handle of my oxygen tank, I crack open my bedroom door and listen to see if anyone is up. All I hear is the sound of coffee beans grinding, which means Steven is awake. Moriah only gets her coffee from Starbucks. I turn around and take my wallet, putting it in my pocket. I also pick up my messenger bag, which has the math homework for Sly.

Quietly, I walk out of my room, closing the door behind me. I softly head down the stairs. When I finally reach the bottom and catch my breath, I glance around the corner. To my surprise, I don’t find Steven anywhere, so I move to the front door. When I don’t see or hear anyone, I open the door and step outside.   
I would’ve taken the car, but Moriah went to work early. So I guess I have to walk.

~Sylvester’s POV~  
I shift in my seat as I wait for Happy. She’s supposed to be here in exactly 5 minutes and 44 seconds, and she never arrives late. We started the tradition in which we meet at Kovelsky’s in the morning around one year ago. Because both of us are socially awkward, we sit in the back corner booth, where nobody else ever goes. I take a sip from my antibacterial water bottle and await Happy’s arrival.

\--------------------

The seconds tick by, but still no Happy. Maybe Moriah did something to her? I sure hope not. The few times that I met Moriah, she scared me. And one out of those three times, I had a minor panic attack, and Happy had to calm me down. I feel so bad that she has to live with her. As I finish that thought, the door swings open and I see Happy, hands on her knees, panting with sweat dripping off her face. 

I stand up and walk over to her. I cautiously touch her shoulder, “Are you okay?” She nods and straightens up. I pull the tank behind me as we walk over to our table. She sits across from me, still catching her breath. “Can I get you some water?” I ask, worried. She just shakes her head. Deep down, I know she wants it, but her independent nature prevents her from getting help without feeling vulnerable. I head up to the front counter and get her a glass of ice water. I set the water in front of her. Happy picks it up and gulps it down in a few seconds.

“Did you walk here?”

“Yeah,” she answers and opens up her bag. She takes out a math book and a pencil. She sets it in front of me. “Here’s my math homework. Page 331.”  
I grin and open up to page 331. I laugh to myself when I see what I have to do. Multiplying and dividing fractions. “I know, it’s the easiest thing ever. I don’t even know why I’m still in school,” Happy says, like she was reading my mind. I immediately start working. 

~Toby’s POV~  
I reach forward and open up the glass door of Kovelsky’s and step inside. Quite a bit of people are here for a Sunday morning. I scan the room to find the best place to people watch. My gaze catches on two people in the back. Two very familiar people. Happy Quinn and Sylvester Dodd from the cancer support group. I grin and walk up to them. I touch Happy’s shoulder and I feel her flinch and freeze. She looks up at me and glares with eyes that could kill. “Hi,” I say. Sylvester stares at me. “Do you guys remember me?” They nod. “What are you doing here?” Happy retorts and scoots away from me, well, not that far because of her oxygen tank.

I take the advantage and sit next to her. “What do you think you’re doing?” She snaps. “Sitting next to a beautiful girl.” She bites her tongue and glares. I look away from her. “What are you doing, Sly Dog?” I ask Sylvester. He glances at me, then Happy. “Happy’s the only one that calls me Sly…” he looks back down. “I’m doing her math homework.” I chuckle. “Wow. You’re making him do your homework,” I turn back to Happy, who’s still glaring at me. “I’m not making him, he wants to do it.” She says, trying to scoot farther away from me. 

Before I started to observe their support group, I had the opportunity to read their files. Sylvester is 14 years old; he lives with his mom and dad, and doesn’t go to school. Happy is 16, living with her foster parents, and does go to school. I don’t know why she is in the foster system, it wasn’t in her file. 

“Well, Happy, I’m 16 too,” I try to announce casually. She snaps her head towards me, “How do you know that?” 

“I might have read your files…”

“How much do you exactly know?!” 

I go right ahead and list all I know. “I know Sylvester Dodd is 14 years old. He lives with his parents and does not attend school. He has acute myeloid leukemia. I know Happy Quinn is 16 years old. She has stage four anaplastic thyroid cancer. She lives with her foster parents-“ and right as I say that, I see emotion flood in Happy’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Happy. I didn’t know that yo-“ I start when she jumps up. “I’m fine. Excuse me.” I stand up. She grabs her tank and heads into the restroom. I frown as I sit back down. “Did I say something wrong?” I ask Sylvester. He shakes his head. “She doesn’t talk about it much. It really gets to her when anyone mentions it. But, I do know that her mother died and her father gave her up when she was only two. The system isn’t nice to people like her.” He says with tears dripping onto the lined piece of paper, smudging the pencil marks.

“I’ll be back,” I tell Sylvester and stand up. I wonder over to the other side of the diner and wait for her to come out. A couple minutes later, she walks out. When Happy notices me, she glares. “Happy, I’m sorry.” She stares. “Please say something.” She keeps staring. But then she turns around and leaves the building. 

I walk back to Sly. “I had a nice chat with you. I’ll see you Wednesday.” I start to walk away, but notice Happy left her bag on the seat. I pick it up and take it with me. Surprisingly, she wasn’t in sight. I sigh and just decide to go home. But then an idea pops in my head. I can go into hospital records and find her address. 

\--------------------

As soon as I find the address, I decide to walk there, because it’s not that far.  
When I reach her house, I am about to knock when I hear yelling.   
“How dare you just leave the house without asking me?! You can’t just leave on your free will! We may not be your actual parents, but we still have control over you!” A woman yells. “I just went to visit with Sylvester. It’s not a big deal.” A quiet voice answers. “’Not a big deal’?! Just imagine what people think of us! We’re letting a stupid little cancer girl wander around the streets?! And who knows if you’re actually visiting that kid! You could be making out with some 20 year old man in an alley way!”   
I feel my heart pound out of my chest. So I knock. I hear footsteps and a man opens the door, “I’ll get back to you in a minute.” He closes the door. Soon after, he opens it back up. “How can I help you?” he asks. I hold up the bag, “I’m here to give this back to Happy.” He nods and motions me in. “Go up the stairs, her room is up there.”  
I go up the stairwell quietly and find her room. I knock on the door and walk in. I find her back facing me; she’s sitting on her bed. “Happy?” She turns around and faces me. “You left your bag on the seat.” I set it on the ground, unsure what to do. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”  
I sit next to her.  
“Thanks for bringing back my bag.”  
“No problem.”  
To my surprise, she lets her walls fall down and starts to cry. I really want to comfort her, but that might scare her off. But she actually leans on my shoulder and soaks my shirt. I attentively wrap an arm around her shoulders.   
“Can I tell you something?” I ask. She sits up and nods. “Please don’t kill me. I think I like you.”  
Happy scoffs, “The most cliché line ever, even more so for a teenager.”  
“But it’s true.”  
“Whatever.” She replies, immediately putting her armor back on.  
I’m not going to give up on her. Not now, not ever.


	3. Something Special

Wednesday

~Sylvester’s POV~

I arrived at support group earlier today, I’m not sure why, though. The only people here are the high school volunteers, including Paige. I stare at Happy’s math book with the piece of paper peeking out of the top. I haven’t seen her since Sunday at Kovelsky’s, when she left in a hurry after Toby mentioned her being the system. To be honest, I’m a little bit angry at him, after all, he made my best friend (she’s like a sister to me) pretty much cry. 

I look up at the sound of someone coming down the stairs, it’s not Happy because the steps are coming down too fast, and I see Toby. I want to glare at him, but Megan told me not to. She occasionally comes to support group, but sometimes she can’t because of the work she gets at the hospital. I hope she comes today. 

Toby smiles at me and sits next to me, on my right. “Hey, buddy,” he greets. I respond with a quick, “Hi.” It seems like he wants to say something, but he keeps his mouth shut. Just when the session is about to start, Megan comes running down the steep stairs. She grins widely and sits on the other side of me. She ruffles my hair and leans close to my ear and whispers, “Is Happy here?” I frown, “I haven’t seen her since Sunday.” Megan offers a supportive smile, “I hope she’s fine. She probably is.”

Support group was played out as usual. We finished up and started to leave. 

“Sylvester!” Toby calls from behind Megan as we are about to step outside. I stop and face him. “Please tell me you’ve heard if Happy is doing well,” he says worriedly. “I haven’t heard from her,” I respond. Toby sadly walks away. I look at Megan, “Does he know something I don’t?” She shrugs. “Here,” Megan hands me her phone, “try calling her.” I take the device from her hand and click on the speed dial for Happy. I push my glasses up as I listen to the constant ringing on the other end. 

Finally, the irritating sound ceases, at first, I think it’s because she answered the call. But I’m wrong. I sigh and give the phone back to Megan. “Can you come with me to her house?” I ask. She grins, “Of course.” The two of us sit in the backseat of my father’s car and he takes us to Happy’s. 

We stop in front of her house and Megan and I get out of the truck. I lead the way to the front door with Megan close behind. I hesitantly knock. A few seconds later, the door opens and Happy’s foster father looks down at us. He seemed to know why we’re here. “Happy has been asleep for most of the day, I didn’t want to wake her up just for support group.” He steps back and holds the door open wider. Megan and I go up the stairs and knock on Happy’s door. It opens a minute later. Happy motions us inside and she closes the door behind her. “Sorry I wasn’t there this morning,” she apologized and sat on the corner of her bed. “Well, you didn’t miss anything,” I tell her as I put the math book on her dresser, “and Toby was worried about you.” Her expression softens when I say that. “He was?” I nod. 

Megan sits by Happy and grins mischievously. “Why do you think he was worried about you?” Happy shrugs and adjusts the cannula around her ears.   
“Does he like you?” Megan asks.

Happy quickly replies. “No. Definitely not.”

False. 

“Oh, Happy that may work with other people, but it cannot work on me. I know you’re lying.” Megan says with a sly smile.

~Megan’s POV~

After I politely ask Sylvester to leave the room, I turn to face Happy. “Talk to me. Girl to girl.” She just glares at me, but I know she’s thinking about something. “Tell me about Toby.” She doesn’t look at me. When I think she’s about to say something, her phone starts to ring. She picks up her phone and hurriedly moves into her bathroom, closing the door. I take a deep breath.

~Happy’s POV~

As soon as I shut the bathroom door, I accept the call. “Toby?” I hear him exhale on the other side. “Thank goodness you’re okay. I have been worried sick about you. Where were you?” 

“I was sleeping.” I answer.

The conversation ended quick, because said I was tired, but I’m really not. I walk out of the bathroom, and to my surprise, Megan is still sitting on my bed. “Who was that?” she asks. “No one.” I persuade her that there’s nothing ‘special’ going on between Toby and I, so she finally leaves. 

Later that day, around 5:30, I wander downstairs because it is awfully quiet. Usually the TV is on with the volume turned up to its max. I make it down the stairs and look around, to find nobody. But, I do find a piece of paper taped on the fridge. I peel it off and read. 

Happy,  
Moriah and I are going out for dinner and such; we won’t be back until around midnight. There are some leftovers in the fridge.

I roll my eyes and throw the paper away. The only food Steven’s talking about is bland asparagus spears, which I hate. Since I can’t really cook without getting tangled up in the tubing connecting to my oxygen tank, I consider ordering pizza, but decide against it. Knowing Moriah, she probably has some way to find out about everything I do. So, before I can change my mind, I call Toby. He picks up instantly. Before he can start babbling about who knows what, I start to talk. “Can you come over?” I hear him smile on the other end, “Yeah.” I also tell him about the food dilemma. “Don’t fear, The Tobester has magical powers in the kitchen! Prepare your taste buds for mastery cuisine crafted by yours truly!” With that, we hang up, and I sit on the couch in the living room.


End file.
